Clearing the Air, Almost
by ncfan
Summary: "Is this the part where it's starting to sink in that everything you knew for ten years was a lie?" Temari, Gaara. Spoilers for 546-548. Gen. Angst. Warnings for adult themes. Two-shot. Complete.
1. Chapter One

I own nothing.

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><p>Temari snarls in frustration and Gaara puts a hand on her shoulder, all the while handing over a much-welcome canteen. She takes a deep gulp of the water and tries against to get up from the pallet prepared for her.<p>

"Temari." Gaara catches her at the crook of her elbow when she threatens to topple over. His tone is distinctly chiding, something that sounds about as wrong on Gaara as eyebrows. "The medic—" he nods to Sakura, who has been watching Temari's fruitless struggles with a mixture of amusement and disapproval "—says that you'll be back on your feet by tomorrow morning. You can wait until then." Thanks to the miracles of medical ninjutsu as practiced by a talented medic, Temari's recovery period has been taken down from several weeks to just a matter of twelve hours or so; it does nothing to alleviate her frustration.

_It's always now, isn't it? _With a heavy sigh, Temari sits back down on the pallet, frowning down at the ground.

The battle was all but over, so of course _that _had to be the time that Temari's leg got broken, in the aftermath. It wasn't even a dignified injury either, even if she had been told the break was clean; she'd gotten caught in a trap set prior to the battle and the resulting shouts of pain could probably be heard back in Kaze no Kuni. In her defense, it was only the second time Temari had ever had a broken bone; she wasn't used enough to the feeling yet for it not to hurt like Hell.

Given that the fighting has all but worn out as the shadows grow long across the desolate landscape, the forces have for now pulled back to a position of relative safety, waiting for the fighting to pick up again. At least Temari's little accident was conveniently timed, if nothing else; she was immediately carted off the battlefield.

Picking up the canteen in her hands, Temari takes a few more deep swigs, wetting her throat and her cracked, dry lips. She honestly doesn't care if the water tastes tinny from being in Gaara's canteen for God knows how long; she's thirsty enough that it doesn't matter.

In Suna, when a group of nin four or more go on long-term missions out into the desert, one of them will always be assigned to carry a pack filled with full water bottles. When the bottles are emptied into the canteens they are kept in the pack so that if the nin stop upon an oasis or a well they can fill them up again. Temari has always appreciated the logic but she never thought she would appreciate water so much until now.

"Kazekage-sama!" Someone calls for Gaara from outside the tent and, without another word, he sweeps to his feet and disappears beyond the flap, his silhouette soon vanishing from sight.

"So… Gaara-kun hasn't had any more health issues since we last spoke?" Sakura is folding freshly cleaned linens and packing them away into a brown footlocker, her fingers spreading out across the cloth and her eyes half-closed from the fatigue of looking after the wounded all day.

Grateful to have something to talk about, Temari shakes her head. "No. He's still an insomniac of the worst kind, but that's to be expected and he's handling it pretty well. Other than that, there's nothing." Which is a miracle in itself, at least if you ask Temari and probably Sakura as well. Being dead and then brought back to life isn't exactly something that sounds like it would lend itself to good health, even if Gaara is the only person known to have experienced such a thing.

Sakura's mouth twitches in a smile she doesn't seem to entirely feel. "That's good."

_Well, there was that one time… _Temari bites back a laugh as she remembers something. "Well, Gaara _did _get his first sunburn about two months ago." At Sakura's raised eyebrows, she elaborates. "Gaara never got sunburns when he had the Shukaku, the demon protecting him from all physical harm and all. He could go out into the desert for literally days on end and he'd come back as pale as he was when he left. As he discovered—" this time, Temari can't restrain a snicker, thinking about what Gaara had looked like "—that doesn't happen anymore. I guess it's true; redheads really don't tan at all."

In truth, it had been pretty amusing. Gaara, having never been sun burnt before, spent a great deal of time in the bathroom picking away the flaking skin even though everyone was telling him not to. He has since learned to cover up better when going out into the desert and holds a new place for hatred in his heart as regards to the sun.

"And came out just as pale beneath, I'm guessing?" Sakura ducks her head to hide another smile, this time a rueful one. "I tried tanning once with baby oil when I was eleven; I couldn't take hot baths for a week, and was still fair-skinned when the sunburn finally went away."

Temari nods, staring at the opposite end of the canvas tent. "Sakura-san…" Levity has evaporated from her face like dew off a cactus "…I'm not complaining or anything, but what are you doing here? Aren't there more serious injuries for you to be treating than a broken leg?"

The young Leaf medic shrugs, packing away the last of the linens and sitting on top of the now-closed footlocker, across the tent from Temari. "Not at the moment, no." A shadow passes over her face. "They usually take longer to get here; you have to be careful with those sorts of casualties."

Reasonable enough.

"Besides…" As if told not to say any more by some unseen force, Sakura falls silent, twisting a kunai in her hands as Temari has often see abstracted shinobi do.

_Only one reason I can think of. Oh boy, here we go again. _"Sakura-san, if it's because of my "connections"—" Temari snorts indelicately "—that I'm getting immediate treatment, you might as well say so."

Sakura blushes and nods. "You'll find that among the shinobi with non-life-threatening wounds, the jonin are getting treatment first because they can contribute more to the engagements, but yes, your status does have a lot to do with it. If something were to happen to a member of the Kazekage's family, it could have a negative impact on Sunagakure's willingness to cooperate with the alliance."

_As I thought. _"No need to worry," Temari answers briskly. "I doubt Gaara would withdraw his support just because one of his siblings was injured or killed—this is war and people die in war; Gaara knows that. I'm pretty used to this sort of treatment too," she adds more quietly. "Though I have to admit, I'm more used to the reason being "Kazekage's _daughter_" than "Kazekage's _sister_"."

Satisfied with this, Sakura falls back to silence and Temari starts to think to herself, a pensive frown unfolding over her face.

She's sure that one of the kages resurrected earlier in the day was her father; he looked too much like him to be anyone else and there was the presence of the gold dust, to boot. The gold dust technique is instantly recognizable to anyone who has ever seen the Yondaime fight; there's no one else it could have been.

Frankly, that troubles Temari.

Gaara was talking with their father, though Temari couldn't tell what about. She was too far away from them to hear and she wasn't exactly standing at a good angle, not one that allowed her clear sight of either her youngest brother or her father. To tell the truth, Temari had other things to worry about at the time; she couldn't afford to focus too much on the family reunion happening a ways off.

Anyone with sense knows that Gaara has little reason to love his father. Though he no longer has the Shukaku to act as an impetus towards mental instability, Temari knows her brother well enough to know that he is more than capable of going on a rampage by himself and that if he did there's very little that could stop him. The fact that he apparently didn't do so earlier today is just a showcase of how much his self-control has grown over the years.

It must have been one interesting conversation, regardless. Now that she thinks about it, Temari can't help what exactly they were talking about, if it was anything other than the traditional insults shot at each other before going into battle. _I can't think about much Gaara would have to say to our Dad, to be honest. So what were they talking about?_

After a good five minutes of pondering, wondering, worrying, Gaara comes back into the tent, looking just as calm as when he left it, adjusting his collar. "Sakura-san." Sakura looks up when he calls her name, frowning. "You're wanted outside; they've started bringing in the more serious casualties."

Face paling, Sakura springs to her feet. "Right, thank you." She goes out to join the other medics.

Once Sakura leaves, Gaara retakes his sitting position beside his sister, who raises an eyebrow at him. "What was that about?"

When Gaara hesitates to answer, Temari rolls her eyes and shoves him in the shoulder. "Your secrets are safe with me, I assure you."

The young Kazekage nods. "The Tsuchikage sent a messenger; he's bringing his group back here for medical treatment and supplies."

"Makes sense."

They fall to silence and Temari continues to stew through curious thoughts. What does a father and his son who have always been at odds say to each other when the former returns from the dead? _Not only an interesting conversation, but a painfully awkward one as well, to be sure._

Temari shoots a glance at Gaara. He's staring off into space, appearing abstracted.

_Here goes._

"So…" For a moment Gaara doesn't seem to hear her; Temari keeps going only after her younger brother turns his pale green eyes on her "…you talked to Dad during the fight, didn't you?"

Gaara stiffens and his eyes dart to the hard-packed earth. Sakura comes tearing back in briefly, hefting the footlocker full of linens as though it's made of air; they've been tearing them up to use as bandages for a while now, given that gauze is more expensive. After a moment and the pink-haired blur has left, he nods wordlessly.

Ignoring the twinges in her leg, Temari narrows her eyes, brow creasing. "And what did you say?"

Gaara remains silent. Discomfort is clearly etched into his pale features. Well, he is silent, until he turns to Temari with an odd, unreadable expression on his face, and asks, "Temari, what do you know about Suna's ANBU?"

Given that Gaara's never shown that much interest in his village's ANBU before, Temari can't help but find this an out-of-character request. "Why? I mean…" Her voice trails off as something occurs to her. "Gaara?" Temari's voice is sharp. "What did he tell you?"

"…"

"I won't tell you anything about ANBU until you tell me what our father told you while he was still in this world."

Temari can't remember the last time she saw Gaara scrunch up his face like he does now. He looks like any other teenage boy who's been told something terrible and doesn't know how to handle it or talk about it. That's a bit absurd, but Temari's been exposed to some pretty absurd things lately as regards to her youngest sibling, so she's learned a wider range of tolerance and expectations.

Still, it's startling, not to mention disconcerting.

"Where do I start?" Barely audible, Gaara's voice is surprisingly steady for the way his lip twitches. Instead of meeting his sister's eyes his gaze is focused on Temari's hands, both of which are braced on top of her legs. "Well, for a first, apparently our mother really did love me and didn't give me the name 'Gaara' out of hatred. Next, Yashamaru was a member of ANBU, he didn't really hate me either, and our father just told him to tell me that he did and that Okaasan hated me to test my control over the Shukaku."

_What?_

For a long moment, Temari can only stare at him, gaping. No one can have a more stunned expression than her to match Gaara's contorted face. Finally, her tongue comes unknotted. "What the Hell?" she exclaims in a choked voice.

A soft sound that seems for all the world to be some grotesque combination of a laugh and a gag meets this. "That was about my reaction too."

"Are you sure he wasn't saying it just to mess with your head?" she points out. Temari hasn't seen her father fight often enough to know if mental manipulation was something he was into, but you never know and the Yondaime always was good with words. In battle, any advantage that can be gained will be gained.

"I don't see why; there was no point." Gaara's voice is small; as quiet as usual, but still small. "He was caught when he said these things; I had already won. There was nothing to be gained by saying these things to me."

_Well, I suppose this is definitely something worthy of getting Gaara shaken out of his normal demeanor. _Fighting back the urge to hide her face in her hands, Temari goes over the bases. "Well, that thing about Kaasan doesn't surprise me at all; I never believed what Yashamaru said about her," she declares firmly. In truth, it had never made sense to Temari that Karura hated Gaara; from what little she remembers of Karura, she wasn't a woman inclined to attach hate to someone who didn't deserve it.

For the first time, Gaara shows an expression other than the lost look he's displayed: indignation. "What? Why didn't you tell me?" Gaara frowns and the oddly peevish note in his voice leaves Temari restraining a high-pitched giggle.

Soon, Temari's humored face fades to something more serious. "Painful subject for you. Didn't seem right to bring it up. Besides, I had no proof of it, and Kaasan's dead; it's not like she can tell us herself."

The younger of the two siblings nods, and Temari watches, suddenly concerned, as Gaara slumps a little, the slight curvature of his spine seeming more pronounced than usual. "I can't believe Yashamaru was in ANBU," Gaara mumbles. "He seemed so… so _unthreatening."_

At this, Temari can only reach forward and put a hand on Gaara's shoulder; he pulls a look of bewilderment at the sudden human contact and she bites back a grimace, remembering the all but feral child of their youth. "Again," she points out gently, "it doesn't surprise me that much. Don't look at me like that, Gaara. You're not stupid; you were a jinchuuriki, the son of the Kazekage and a small child at that. This made you an instant target for kidnapping and assassination, if not by the other villages than by our own people. Do you honestly think they were going to leave you in the hands of an incompetent chunin?"

"True," he admits reluctantly. "But his rank is listed as chunin on the record."

Wondering why on earth Gaara would be looking at Yashamaru's records in the first place, Temari answers. "It wouldn't be; Suna ANBU keep their status strictly on the QT, since they're a pretty tantalizing target for assassination themselves."

Thanks to her status both as the Kazekage's sister and as his bodyguard, Temari has over the past year learned more about her village's ANBU Black Op.s than she ever thought she would know or ever particularly _wanted _to know; she had felt the need to read up on Suna's elite in case it ever became relevant to Gaara's defense. Mostly, her observations have come to the conclusion that ANBU is a singularly twisted organization, but Temari can't help but admire it on some level. They did their homework and tied up all loose ends, and the result is a highly efficient, devastatingly effective combat force.

Gaara pulls a face—funny, he's been doing that a lot lately; where his default demeanor is one of imperturbable calm, anyone would think him easily excitable if they were just now meeting him. "So anyone could be in ANBU and I wouldn't know. The genin who runs D-rank missions all day could be in ANBU and I would never know. Temari, that's a huge security risk."

Once more, big sister has an answer. "Well, not just anyone, Gaara." Gaara raises a hairless eyebrow and Temari sighs, tapping her forehead with her index and middle finger. "Since you asked about ANBU, I'll tell you what I know. Answering your first question, not just anyone can be called to serve in ANBU. You have to be of sound body and have no major health issues—sound mind doesn't matter to them nearly as much. Obviously you have to be a shinobi. Also, ANBU can not recruit a member of the Kazekage's immediate family; if they could do that they would have called Kankuro by now and we both know it.

"You don't have to worry about it being a security risk, Gaara. Part of ANBU conditioning is instilling an unflinching, unquestioning loyalty to the Kazekage. They answer to you and you alone. By the time they're done with their trainees, if you were to tell one of them to kill themselves they wouldn't even ask why; all they'd do is ask you how you want it done."

For the first time Gaara shows a face familiar to Temari—that of slight, reserved disapproval. "I don't think I like that."

That figures. For all that he's the leader of a hidden village and the military governor of a militarized nation and that he's more than willing to die for his people and his country, Gaara still doesn't particularly relish the idea of having people willing to die for _him _without question. He still heads all the most dangerous missions himself, at least the ones not degrading to his position as Kazekage, over the objections of the advisory council.

The young kunoichi snorts. "I didn't think you would, but that's how it is. The ANBU don't use their names, at least not in public; they use code names connected to their mask. Also, among the ANBU, when a new commander is appointed they are to present themselves to the Kazekage, or they do so when a new Kazekage is appointed; the ANBU commander is the only one whose identity the Kazekage is privy to."

Gaara nods. "I remember; he came the day after I was appointed."

"Right. The ANBU commander may on occasion come to you to inform you of new recruitment, but he only does so as a courtesy. He doesn't have to tell you anything." Temari drains the canteen before continuing, using the break as a tool to gather her thoughts to her. "For another thing, recruitment is compulsory. If you are called, you _can not _object."

Now Gaara can't help but look a little troubled. "What about the ones that do?" he asks, brow furrowed. Adding age to his face he looks a lot like their father did whenever Gaara showed signs of being under the Shukaku's influence as a child.

"They change their minds." The finality in Temari's voice is unmistakable.

Silent, Gaara gives himself time for all of this to sink in. All the while, Temari looks at him warily, getting the distinct sense that he's putting together the resolve to do something potentially very stupid. While Kankuro is better known for being "the stupid one" of the Sand Siblings, Gaara definitely has his moments too.

"Temari…" A carefully controlled mask appears where Gaara's face is supposed to be. "Do the ANBU keep any written records?"

Here it comes. Temari would rather not answer, knowing it can't be for anything good, but considering she doesn't know where Gaara's going with this yet, she doesn't see that she has much choice. "Officially, no."

The 'but' in that statement is clearly visible. "And unofficially?"

She shrugs helplessly. "Unofficially… Unofficially, you know they have to, for medical purposes if nothing else." Green eyes narrow and Temari's lips thin. "Listen, Gaara. There are rumors. Supposedly, there is supposed to be a room in the basement of ANBU headquarters. It's three floors down from the surface and past every sort of trap and alarm device known to man, plus some that aren't known. And that's if you can get past the ANBU operatives assigned to guard the place. And that's if you even know where ANBU headquarters _is._"

At that, Gaara has the air of a man who's made up his mind, and this is where Temari knows she's said too much. _Oh no. _"Gaara… Please tell me you're _not _planning what I think you're planning."

He doesn't answer.

"Oh brother." _That settles it. He's every bit as crazy as he used to be. He just doesn't channel his craziness towards bloody rampages anymore. _"Well I guess I know what we're doing when we get back to Suna," Temari sighs.

"You don't have to get involved," Gaara points out all too reasonably. "If the ANBU answer to me then theoretically all I have to do is ask. If they resist, I'll force the issue."

Knowing she's going to regret this, Temari shakes her head, an incredulous little smile starting to spill over her lips. "No. It'll be fun. Horrible idea, but still fun. Brother-sister bonding time, so don't tell Kankuro."

Another shout of "Kazekage-sama!" comes from beyond the tent and Gaara has to get up and leave. When he's gone, the smile slides off of Temari's face water off of duck feathers.

Before today, she would have given anything to be home in Suna as soon as possible. But for this, she can almost hope the war never ends, so she won't have the opportunity.


	2. Chapter Two

That thing about Karura's name comes from a note I noticed on her profile on Narutopedia, saying that her name is spelled with different kanji in 547-548 than in other appearances. I looked at it and thought: this can _not _be a coincidence. I also thought: plot point. It's not exactly the same as what I present here, but take it as you will.

I own nothing.

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><p>The ANBU operative with them disables the last of the traps surrounding the archive room concerning casualties and late operatives. It takes a while. The young man told to assist them (mask up of course, but Temari can tell sex from his body and age from his still-smooth voice) is being careful to defuse them all; if the Kazekage and his sister are injured or killed by an ANBU trap in an ANBU building that isn't supposed to exist, that could get ANBU in some serious trouble and they'd rather not have that.<p>

It took six months to get back to Sunagakure, six months in which a war was fought and won and the world went somewhat back to normal. Six months that were all the reprieve Temari had, and even after that she's still not comfortable with what they're doing—this is going to unearth old skeletons by the dozens, she just knows it, and Gaara for all his outward stoicism and composure may not be equipped to deal with it.

Gaara was right, of course; the ANBU deferred to his authority immediately and allowed him the full range of the ANBU headquarters, provided that they allow an operative to go in with them and disable the (even more copious than Temari could have ever imagined) traps. They seemed almost… _embarrassed _about the whole thing, at least as embarrassed as men and women hiding their faces behind porcelain animal masks could seem.

There comes a sharp, metallic _ping _and the operative springs to his feet. "That's the last of them. I've disabled the trigger for the suppressive gas as well."

The young Kazekage nods and steps past him into the room. Temari follows close behind, watching her brother's face intently; Gaara betrays nothing, even and pale. "Thank you, you can go now."

Not startled at all, the nameless operative executes a shallow bow. "As you wish. You should know, the files go by given name, not surname. Kazekage-sama." The operative nods to Gaara, then does the same for Temari. "Ma'am." He is gone in a swish of shadows and wind.

As Gaara goes further on into the room, Temari takes a chance to drink in her surroundings. The archive room for late operatives is a huge rectangular room with a ceiling maybe twenty feet high. The walls are carved out of the bedrock, dull, dark brown and rough-hewn; the only lights are the harsh fluorescent fixtures on the ceiling. The room is bare and hollow except for the shelves, oh so high, nearly reaching the ceiling, pressed against all four walls. A rolling ladder leans idle in the shadows. There are cardboard boxes on the shelves, labeled and unopened, all coated with a fine gray layer of dust. Clearly this is not a room regularly ventured into.

Temari dawdles, trying to stave off the inevitable moment as long as possible, but Gaara makes a beeline for the boxes and eventually, reluctance reading in invisible ink all over her face, his sister follows. She hovers behind Gaara as he searches—his first thought took him to the J's—knowing that this is something he would rather do himself and respecting that, even if she does think this is a bad idea.

With a tense eagerness bordering on impatience, something so incredibly uncharacteristic of Gaara, he goes around the room, looking for the Y section, eyes gleaming. Temari's mouth becomes increasingly pursed as they make their progress around the room. In a way, this room is a tomb, and it's not just her personal feelings over Gaara's state of mind that tells her they shouldn't be here. The sanctity of a tomb is not something to be violated, not even in time of most desperate need.

Finally, they come to the Y section and Gaara narrows his eyes as he looks over the boxes. "Yachiko, Yasahiro," he murmurs to himself, running a finger down the brown cardboard and cutting a trail through the dust in his wake.

She can tell when Gaara has found the box labeled _Yashamaru _because his shoulders tense and he goes very still, his chin tipping down. After a moment in which he seems to be contemplating all the world, he says, so quiet as to be nearly inaudible, "This is it."

Even if she doesn't like this, Temari knows what to do. She and Gaara both take the box, even if it is not particularly heavy, and set it down on the ground, sitting on either side. With surprising gentleness and care, Gaara lifts the top of the box, and, surprised to find that she's holding her breath, Temari joins him in peering inside.

There are several manila folders, likely the logs of missions, all in a mess. With them there is a roll of wire, a mask, and any number of small things that look entirely out of place where they are. _Yashamaru's effects, _Temari observes dully.

Six months she has had to live with the revelations Gaara imparted on her, and still Temari has a hard time thinking of it all as the truth.

All her life, for as long as she can remember, Temari has heard stories told time and again about her mother. It was never made public what she had said at the last; through Gaara's information Temari has a rough idea of what Karura must have said, but even she doesn't know the exact details. Instead of making Karura's last words public as they should have been in such a situation, they were kept secret, and inevitably the stories started from that one little secret kept.

None one could accept that Karura simply had the most atrocious taste in names. _No, _Temari thinks bitterly; that's simply too mundane an explanation for the gossipmongers of Sunagakure. Secrets built up on top of secrets that gave rise to stories so outrageous but eventually accepted as fact. Temari can see, with the stark clarity provided by hindsight, how it must have happened. A name given to a child out of love and a desire to protect became a name speaking of hatred and revenge and devilry. A decent woman's last breath was used to bless her child with an albeit bizarre name, but a few stories later, her soul was twisted inside-out and she became a screaming wretch, hatred spewing like hot poison from her lips and curses against the village darkening the land. Temari has heard these tales for as long as she can remember, even accepted them to some extent, and even if none of them say exactly the same thing, the message is always the same at its core.

This was all bad enough, but what was always the worst in Temari's eyes was when they twisted her mother's very name. _Her name isn't written with those kanji, _she wants to shout when she sees Karura's name spelled out to mean "the demon who adds to the flow of sand and hatred". Her throat closes and she wants to scream, but she can't find a single sound in her lungs.

And Yashamaru? Temari still isn't sure what to think of Yashamaru, now that she knows the truth of him. Ten years of hating a man for turning her brother into a shell of himself and a monster and betraying her in the process isn't something to be forgotten over night, not even in six months—and it's not like Temari's had a whole lot of time to be soul-searching in those six months. That Yashamaru had his orders from the Kazekage and that he absolutely could _not _refuse she remembers and understands; it's just hard.

The siblings start to rife through the box of Yashamaru's belongings and Temari picks up his mask. A hollow-eyed desert goshawk stares back up at her; Temari sneezes as she brushes the dust away. The mask is mostly white, with only chalk blue rings around the eye holes for coloring. For some reason, it's oddly appropriate that he would have worn the face of a hawk.

Temari sets the mask aside with special care and keeps on digging through the box; she's long since forgotten her own feelings about the sanctity of tombs, sheer morbid curiosity having won out over propriety. The folders are mostly reports of missions, both successes and failures; Temari can't help but feel some satisfaction when she sees that the 'success' pile is much larger than the 'failure' pile.

Gaara stiffens as he opens a file and looks inside. Something cold settles in Temari's stomach as she sees what is unmistakably a flash of guilt white-hot flashing over Gaara's face before he hides his face from her (maybe out of shame, maybe from something else) and continues to dig. The folder is cast aside and Temari immediately plucks it up, wondering what could make him experience that swift and briefly overpowering burst of emotion.

She sees soon enough.

Black and white pictures, taken with medical detachment and precision. Bruised arms, bruised legs. Scoured skin. Dripping blood. A picture of a man with a skinny, blackened torso, Yashamaru's tired, too-weary, too-old eyes staring out frankly, shadowed and smudged, drooping yet somehow so intense that Temari can't hold their gaze. _Sand-scouring… Mission ongoing… Attempted to restrain the jinchuuriki… Mission ongoing… The boy attacked three children today… Mission ongoing… Barely stopped him… Mission ongoing…_

_Oh. _That's all her stunned mind can think to say. _Oh._

Suddenly reluctant to return to scavenging through her uncle's effects, Temari hesitates, her fingers curled over the side of the box, fingernails digging into the cardboard. If all the unopened folders contain more of the same of what she just saw, then Temari is unwilling to venture any further. It's not the blood and the bruises and the pseudo-burns that bothers her; as a shinobi Temari has seen the same and so much worse on a near-daily basis. What makes it just a little difficult to breathe and impossible to look at those pictures again is the reality of who's wearing those wounds and how they got there in the first place.

_I knew it was bad, but I never thought… _Almost (but not quite) afraid to look at him, Temari sneaks a glance at her brother. She can't imagine what must be going through his mind as he rifles through Yashamaru's things. Something that probably goes better unsaid, she can imagine.

_Wait…_

Gaara has stopped again, hunched over a sheet of paper clenched in taut hands. An open envelope is on the ground in front of him. When Temari peers more closely to read the expression on his face, she can see the guilt there once more, this time even more powerful thanks to the added presence of grief, threatening to spill and overwhelm. Forgetting everything she was taught about propriety and letting her personality shine through instead, Temari snatches the paper from Gaara; he does not object, hands falling to his knees.

The blonde's brow furrows as she smoothes out the paper and holds it to the light. It's a letter, written in a precise, matter-of-fact hand.

_Gaara:_

_If you've gotten so far as to find this, I can only assume you know the truth of what I am about to do—what I will have done by the time you find this letter. I know that the whole tradition of men who are about to die writing letters to loved ones is a bit cliché, but I hope you will appreciate the gesture anyway._

_You are, I am assuming, physically unharmed by my assassination attempt. No matter how I attempt to convince Kazekage-sama that the defense of your sand is absolute, he does not seem to believe me. Perhaps I'm just paranoid, but I'm beginning to believe he's just giving the task of killing you to the shinobi he no longer wants around him; given that he seems to have picked up on my feelings as regards to him, that would be a plausible explanation._

_As you've probably gathered, I am—soon to be was—a member of Sunagakure's ANBU Black Op.s. You probably had a hard time believing that at first when you found out, at least I hope I did. You have to understand, Gaara, the thought that I could have been found out by a six-year-old is nothing short of mortifying; I do have some pride and I like to think I was trained better than that. If you didn't notice anything odd, then I have done my job properly._

Temari can't restrain a smirk. _Oh no, we never noticed when you took missions in the middle of the night and showed up the next morning bruised and cut up, no. _In reality though, Yashamaru had been quite convincing; Temari doesn't think Gaara or Kankuro ever suspected him of being anything but a chunin and she _knows _she didn't. She reads on, a new sense of foreboding making her stomach churn at the first sentence.

_I wish I could say that things will get better for you. I wish I could say that I had the courage to even try to defy your father's order, that I was able to get my head above the curtain of ANBU conditioning for one moment and try to find an alternative for the situation I am inevitably coming closer to finding myself in. _

_Well, I didn't have that level of courage, or that level of disobedience. I am ANBU and your father is the Kazekage; I am bound to obey at all costs, including that of my own life. I do as I am told, as do all shinobi and all ANBU._

_Though I could be wrong, though I hope that I am wrong, I do not think that things will get any easier for you. The life of a jinchuuriki is inevitably a lonely one. I know that loneliness, that isolation. Having a secret like mine changes you, and not for the better. You can be in a crowded room and have never felt more alone in your life; the faces of others seem so flat and their voices so false and shallow. This I have experienced since I was called, and this I have seen in your eyes since the first day. It is the fate of a jinchuuriki to be alone; that will not change any time soon._

_I know you miss your mother. I miss her too._

_And I am sorry. These are my orders, that and nothing more, but I am sorry. You know why._

_Frankly, Gaara I don't care what you do with this letter. You can show it to the whole city, keep it to yourself, even burn it; I don't care. I just want you to tell your siblings the truth. I want them to see this. Maybe it's just vanity or ego, but I'd rather not have Kankuro and Temari spending the rest of their lives hating me for trying to kill their younger brother._

It ends there, without so much as a signature or anything. If it weren't for the fact that Temari recognizes Yashamaru's handwriting and that it's in among his effects, Temari would have to question whether this is actually something written by Yashamaru at all. Here is not the place for suspicion, though; here is a place for secrets unearthed and stories finally put to rest.

Gaara, clearly having read his way through the letter, is in a position Temari never thought she would see him after he receded into himself following Yashamaru's failed assassination attempt: near tears. The spike of strong emotions doesn't immediately register but Temari can see his pale features are taut and stretched tight, eyes too bright, lower lip quivering slightly. He's ducked his head to hide his face from her but Temari is a woman and, more importantly, she's his sister; she knows his moods and what his looks mean.

_Oh boy. _Not exactly a sentimental girl even under special circumstances, Temari dreads the thought that he might start crying in front of her; Temari has no idea what to do in case of that and Gaara isn't exactly what anyone sane and reasonable would term "huggable", even if he doesn't kill people for touching him anymore.

But he doesn't. Gaara must be exerting every iota of self-control he has, but he doesn't cry and Temari finally thinks of something to say.

"So…" She smiles weakly "…is this the part where it starts to sink in that pretty much everything you've known for the past ten years was a lie?"

In response, the young Kazekage grimaces hideously. "I've been thinking about that for a while but… yes, yes I think it is." Gaara holds a hand out for the letter, and when she returns it to him he fingers the paper, frowning heavily. "This is insane," Gaara murmurs. His face screws up. "This is all _insane,_" he bursts out suddenly, eyes sparking.

_Ah, _there's _the anger I've been looking for the last six months. _Temari nods. "Yes, it is, but this is Sunagakure politics. Did you expect anything else?"

"No."

"Well there you have it."

The brief spike of humor brought on by trash-talking politics disappears as quick as it came as Temari remembers Yashamaru and the way he behaved and the things he did. He had given every appearance of loving Gaara deeply, and now Temari can see that that wasn't a mask after all; Yashamaru hadn't had to hide his true feelings to care for his youngest nephew like she'd thought. But even if Gaara is willing to forgive him completely—and Temari doesn't know whether he has or not, but he shows no sign of still holding a grudge against him—Temari can't get past the fact that, on an order from the Kazekage, a man she knows Yashamaru hated intensely, he was willing to throw everything away.

_He was ANBU, and he had his orders. _

_He was Gaara's uncle and Karura's brother. _

_He was a shinobi. He could not disobey the Kazekage._

_He was a decent human being, for crying out loud! He ought to have at least put up a fuss when being told to kill his own nephew._

Temari finally decides that it's too late to worry about these things. It's ten years too late to try and decide whether or not Yashamaru was justified in following orders.

"I don't think everyone has to know." She looks up in surprise when Gaara speaks, much more calm now, though still with eyes a little too bright, glittering like stars in the sky. "Yashamaru doesn't seem to have cared too much about how he was remembered. Besides, we'd have to reveal his status as ANBU in order to make this widely known, and even I can't expose an ANBU operative, even if he is dead."

Not perfect, but they don't live in a world that's perfect. Their world is anything but perfect. "We're going to have to tell Kankuro, though," Temari points out reasonably. "Can't keep him out of the loop forever." The fact that it was she who suggested they do this without telling Kankuro in the first place has for the moment escaped Temari.

Kankuro's anger against Yashamaru was, if anything, even worse than Temari's. Beneath the façade of fear of Gaara and rough recalcitrance, Kankuro always remained someone who wanted, deep down, to be a brother to Gaara, though he wouldn't admit it even to Temari. Whenever Yashamaru is brought up in conversation by either Kankuro or Temari (Gaara is never in the room; that's not a topic that needs to be broached in earshot of him even on a good day), Kankuro's words for his late uncle are anything but kind. In fact, they are invariably virulent and profane, but that's just how Kankuro gets when he's mad; he wouldn't be Temari's younger brother and Gaara's older one if he was any other way.

Gaara doesn't look like he much relishes the task of debriefing Kankuro the same way he did Temari, but he nods in concordance. "Agreed. How to tell him, though?" His voice goes a little thick at that.

Temari just leans out to rub his shoulder, and when his eyes meet hers, she smiles a little.

He's still getting over it, still getting used to have everything he knew about his history with his mother and his uncle proved wrong. Six years of fear and terror were built on a lie. Gaara became an absolute demon for six years on the basis of a lie. The implications are beyond monstrous, but Gaara can handle it. Temari is sure he can handle it.

_After all, he's put up with worse._

* * *

><p>I do hope you all enjoyed the ride.<em><br>_


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